


Who Among the Waves Can I Name?

by 3littleowls



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Diary/Journal, M/M, Mermaid Q, Mermaids, Mermen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3littleowls/pseuds/3littleowls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You hold in your hands the diary of Commander James Bond and inside, his fantastic account of the Leeward Islands merman. I hope you find the content illuminating.<br/>-M</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Among the Waves Can I Name?

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the 00Q Reverse Bang for 2016. It was inspired by artwork from [AGirlinPaddingtonStation.](http://agirlinpaddingtonstation.tumblr.com/) Thank you, I've been wanting to try my hand at diary-format stories AND mermaid fic for a long time, and this was the perfect chance to do both!
> 
> Thanks to my eternal 00Q muse, [Beaubete](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beaubete) for beating and thanks to [MinMu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMu) for hosting the exchange!

**April 27th 1836, at sea:**

A new, blank journal always feels like a fresh start, even if there are few unique experiences left for me. I can’t imagine what I have left unseen or undone in my years of service in the Royal Navy. Oh, and now I’ve inked the clean white pages with a maudlin start! I should never write when I’ve been drinking, but it seems the only opportunities to do either occur at the same time.

Let me try again: in case this volume is separated from the whole of my records, I’ll start with an introduction. I’m Commander James Bond of the _HMS Lotus_ , a 27 meter, six-gun bark. In our days we have been a warship, a patrol vessel, and now we have just set sail on our third long distance voyage of exploration to the Caribbean. We have a crew of sixty sailors and nine scientists, headed by Doctor Karl Stromberg. Their mission is to take oceanographic measurements and collect samples of fishes and other marine life to bring back to England for study. Our job is to conduct them safely and to avoid the hazards of the seas.

Dr Stromberg is a man of late middle years, with grey, thinning hair and a little paunch. He dresses plainly and his expression is generally one of vexation. He very much reminds me of my proctor back in my school days. Besides his scholarly appearance, he knows his way around a ship and had his sea-legs as quickly as any of my crew.

I had hopes Dr Stromberg would be interesting company at the dinner table during the long voyage across the Atlantic, but that wish has been thoroughly dashed. He and his staff keep to themselves, the doctor especially. I would say he seems to dislike humankind in favor of his studies of the sea. He rebuffs my attempts at conversation unless I keep the topic on practical matters- our itinerary, the forecast, ocean life I have seen during my travels and the storage of the crates of glass specimen jars and equipment. 

I suppose it’s no loss if the man wants to keep to his own. Our first mate, Mr William Tanner, is an avid student of history and will keep my brain from being idle. There are always games of chance, songs and tall tales with the crew in the evenings. Oh, and the whisky I keep in my berth- the tang of peat reminding me that I am a creature of the earth even though I spend most of my days on the water.

In the meantime, we mind the _Lotus_ , watch the fickle ocean, and keep Dr Stromberg happy. He is, after all, paying for our bread for a goodly span. I feel we will earn it- before I retired for the night he was fretting. A crewman was curiously looking over a glass-sided tank that is so large it could hold a small shark. I’ve now told the men to keep away from Stomberg’s laboratory on the lower decks. I believe if our respective crews can keep out of each other’s way, this should be a lucrative venture for everyone.

**May 5th:**

We are making good time travelling downwind and Dr Stromberg is pleased with the schedule. He won’t start harvesting fish until we arrive in the proper habitat, so he spends his time collecting water samples and peering off the side of the ship with his spyglass. He seems particularly intrigued by larger fishes and the cetaceans that follow us. He startled our ships’ boy who overheard him discussing if the scientists should try to take one of the dolphins that linger in the bow waves, but that seemed to be idle talk. It’s a good thing too, since I would have had to try to convince him otherwise. I’m not superstitious myself, but it's a widely held belief among sailors that harming a dolphin results in the worst of luck, and the crew wouldn’t tolerate it.

**May 30th, an unnamed isle:**

The journey across the Atlantic was uneventful and we’re arrived at the leeward isles. We are spending two days cruising before entering the Caribbean Sea proper so Dr Stromberg can capture some flying fish for study. His men are using nets on long handles to sweep them up as they leap from the path of the _Lotus_ and sail across the water. My men are amused at watching them and often cheer on the researchers as if it’s sport. I expect there will be bets placed on how many they capture before the day is out.

Everyone is in good spirits- we’ve completed a safe voyage and Dr Stromberg has begun his projects. In a handful of days we will dock in Antigua and the sailors can enjoy a night in port at the rum bars and the company of some young women or men.

Our first stop, however, will be for fresh water. I know a small isle- not much more than a cluster of rocks and coral, yet it boasts an impressive natural cistern high enough to avoid becoming brackish. This evening we will anchor, refill our barrels, and set out again in the morning.

**May 30th, addendum:**

I realize what I am about to describe sounds like a hallucination or some sort of whisky-fueled dream. I assure you I am not prone to such creative fantasies, and I was not the only one to see it. Tonight, whist we anchored to collect water, well, I saw what I can only call a merrow.

I had rowed to shore with one of the crews to collect water. I tend to be cautious in remote areas; pirates have almost become a tall tale to the younger crew members, but I remember raiders well from my early days as a sailor. I climbed up a mound of stone so I could use my glass to scan the perimeter of the entire islet. The sky was clear and the moon was a waxing crescent, causing no deceptive shadows. In a secluded lagoon not far from the beach where we made our landing, the merrow perched on an outcrop of rock. I looked away from my eyepiece and refocused my lens, but my eyes did not deceive me. A half-human, half-fish creature was sitting there, looking out on the waters in the direction of the _Lotus_.

At first I assumed the creature was female- a mermaid. It had dark curly hair that just touched its shoulders and its torso was lithe. However, when it turned, its chest was flat. By human standards, the creature would be too large to be a child- a male, then. A merrow. 

I could not make out the details of the face due to the distance in the moonlight, but I could see smooth skin that faded to fish scales were its legs should have been. A large, forked-shaped tail swished back and forth in the foam below. It tilted its head as if listening to something far off- perhaps from on board my ship- then, with a quick twist of its body, the merrow slid into the water. I scanned the waves and nearby rocks for more signs of the creature or others like it, but that was the last I saw of it. 

Like most sane people, I probably would have written off this experience as a mistake. Maybe the glare of the water had fooled my eye, or a speck of dust on my lens. However, after we had filled the barrels and taken them back on board, we found our scientists beside themselves. Dr Stromberg had seen the merrow through his own spyglass, and the commotion caused by the excited research crew must have been what had startled the creature.

“We have a change of plan,” the doctor told me. “We will stay here and attempt to capture the fish we saw tonight. If we are successful, it will be the first ever described by science. At dawn we will send crews in the rowboats with harpoons to patrol the island. I would prefer to catch a live specimen, so we will drop the driftnets near the entrance of the cove.”

“Aye,” I agreed. It was sensible plan, and with a new load of water, we have enough supplies to delay port by several days without hardship.

“Commander Bond, we might be make history!” Dr Stromberg exclaimed enthusiastically. “We can bring a part of our world out of shadowy realms of myth and legend and into the bright, true light of science!”

We must prepare for the hunt and ready the nets. Plus the prospect of seeing one of these- animals? Fish?- close up has set the entire ship awash with excitement. It will be a sleepless night for the crew.

**May 31st:**

We’ve set the nets and patrolled the island all morning. We have little to show for our efforts besides fresh fish for supper. Perhaps our movements have frightened the animal to deeper waters. Dr Stromberg has ordered the expedition to hunt again tomorrow, so maybe we will have better luck if the weather stays clear. It’s not quite hurricane season yet, so we should be safe from any major storms whilst we linger.

**June 1st:**

It takes quite the day to excite an old sailor such as myself, but there is a live merrow in the hold of the _Lotus!_ Dr Stromberg is overjoyed and the whisky and rum will flow in celebration tonight.

We captured him after dawn. The doctor thinks that perhaps they hunt in the darkness of the evening, which explains why we had little luck capturing it during the daylight. One of the rowboats signaled back to the ship that something large was tangled in the nets, and the doctor, Mr Tanner, and myself supervised pulling it up.

“It must be something large- there is too much weight on the net to be fish,” Tanner sad, watching the strain on the lines.

“A dolphin, probably,” I guessed. “Rather close to the rocks, but it could have been chasing a school of fish.”

“No. It would snap the nets, Commander Bond. They can’t withstand anything of that size.”

“One of the big turtles, then. They roam near the kelp beds close to the reefs. Good eating, too,” I replied. I had accepted we had seen something amazing, a creature out of legend, but I did not truly believe we’d capture a mythical animal. Not one to remain idle, I sharpened one of my blades whilst we waited for the nets to be pulled up.

“No, it’s the merrow. I’m sure it is,” Dr Stromberg said, leaning over to try to get a first look. His brow had a fine sheen of sweat and he clung to the rail with a white-knuckled grip.

The winches made quick work of the nets and all eyes were fixed on them as they were hauled in. A shining, bright blue-green form flexed just below the surface, fixed fast in the netting. I thought at first it was simply a big parrot fish- they can get quite large and can be brightly colored. However, as the net was pulled from the water, scaleless, golden skin was revealed. It was no fish.

The sailors and scientists cried out in wonder as the creature was lowered on the decks. It flopped inside the netting, hopelessly tangled, but it for all the world it looked like a young human male on the top and a fish on the bottom. The scientists cautiously approached, backed up by my men with cudgels in case it was more formidable than it appeared. It made an eerie high-pitched mewling noise as it writhed, and came close to toppling the scientists with its long, muscular tail. 

“Don’t damage it!” Dr Stromberg shouted as they cut the net away. The merrow was face down and a fine silken dorsal fin stood proudly along its backbone. It was bright turquoise blue, blushed deep red close to its body. At first glance it looked fragile, but…

“Watch your hands- the tips of the fins have spines!” I said. A neat row of sharp bone stood up from the shoulder blades and ran up to the neck, disappearing into a mass of what appeared to be dark, curly hair. Where scales faded to human-looking skin on the back, the golden cream flushed pink as if hot.

“Fascinating! It’s flaring- a common strategy male fish employ to look more intimidating. Often seen in _Betta splendens_ \- the fighting fishes of Siam,” Dr Stromberg told us. The normally terse man was almost gleeful.

A delicate arm with a fully-formed hand was pulled free from the netting. I didn’t have to warn about the short, sharp claws that tipped each finger. The other hand was occupied- the animal was still holding an octopus- or was it holding onto him? The tentacles wrapped around the forearm. It must have been the merrow’s intended breakfast. 

“Tie its wrists,” I instructed, and the crew did so before pulling away the last of the net and the grouchy cephalopod. The researchers sluiced the merrow down with a bucket of seawater to keep it from drying out. 

We all simply stared in wonder when they flipped the beast over. It was breathtaking- so very human and at the same time, so very _other_. The tail faded into scaleless skin just above where a navel would be. The front torso, face, and arms were as fine as any young lad’s, turned golden by the sun. Water reflected a fine tracing of scales along the brow, the jaw and along the shoulders and clavicle. It had no hair, except the mass of loose ringlets on its head. There were subtle slits- gills I guessed- blushed an angry red under it’s jawbone. When the eyes opened, they were sea-green with a decidedly inhuman and haunting, drop-shaped black pupil.

It _is_ beautiful.

The crew was sent to fetch some sailcloth to carry it in. Under Dr Stromberg’s strict supervision, they wet the fabric and wrapped the creature in it like a shroud. This enabled us to carry it safely below decks, where it resides now in the enormous glass tank.

That was the whole of it: how we captured the first confirmed merrow. Now I go to relieve all but a skeleton crew so we may celebrate our good fortune.

**June 2nd:**

I’m not sure what compels me at this hour to carry my diary down into the hold that contains the laboratory. I suppose it’s natural curiosity. I’m not the only one on board that wants to see- the scientists have been quite strict keeping the crew from the merrow’s tank- but they can’t prevent me on my own ship from taking a closer look. Not that any of them are awake this hour. 

As I turn up the lamps and pull a nearby stool over to the glass tank I notice that there is writing on the front corner- Dr Stromberg’s neat writing in grease pencil:

Species: unknown  
Sex: male  
Specimen number: 1-6-1836-Q

A face appears at the glass and I jump back in surprise. The merrow stares at me with unblinking eyes. When the shock passes I peer closer. It looks a lot less threatening than when on the deck- the gills are no longer spread and flushed in an anger display and are almost unnoticeable slits. Looking at the whole animal through the glass I see it has changed color to a tranquil aquamarine. The spines are hidden away and the dorsal fin trails behind it like fine silk taffeta. 

The merrow looks smaller now, too, even if it has little room to swim in its tank. It does a graceful circle and has just enough space to turn around. It looks at me through the glass again and its features are deceptively human. It appears to be curious, and that is not hard to believe. Other ocean animals like dolphins often come up to human swimmers to investigate.

“You’re a hunter, I’m sure of it. I wonder if they gave you anything to eat after they took your octopus away?” I ask it. 

It blinks at me with two sets of eyelids- one a clear membrane over the eyeball, and the other just like a man’s. 

I look around the area and find a bucket filled with freshly caught mackerel. I pick one up and slide it through the lid of the tank. The merrow turns its attention towards the dead fish and gives it a disdainful poke with it’s finger whist it watches it sink to the bottom. It stares at the fish and then looks back at me. I swear it scowls.

“Sorry, I’m all out of octopus. Maybe you’ll change your mind about it later.”

It swirls around the tank and comes back to me. There is something about the pursed lips that looks disappointed. 

“I got mackerel for lunch myself. Ship’s fare and all that. You’re lucky you don’t have to eat hardtack,” I grimace.

It blinks again, and then mimics my expression perfectly.

“Bloody hell,” I whisper. I childishly stick my tongue out at it to be sure. 

It does it too.

“Are you just a copycat, or do you understand me somewhat?” I ask it. It cocks its head as if listening. 

I hear soft soled shoes on the deck, and it’s Dr Stromberg approaching. “Good evening, Commander. I wouldn't get too close to the glass. We don’t know how powerful it is yet, and if it gets agitated-”

“You think it could crack the tank?” I ask.

“Best to be safe,” he says with a shrug.

I consider my words carefully so I don’t sound like a daft old fool being caught talking to a fish. “Have you assessed how intelligent it is yet?”

“We’ve just begun our work, Mr Bond. I’ll know all about it when we take it back for study in London. Right now my hypothesis is that it’s about as clever as the octopus it had captured.”

There is something tight around the the doctor’s eyes that makes me think he’s lying, but why he’d deceive me about his research is perplexing. “Ah. Just curious. It’s a spectacular animal.”

“It is, but it’s just that- a simple animal. One that should probably sleep off the stress of capture. Let us leave it to rest, shall we?” Dr Stromberg reaches to turn down the lamps before I can protest. “Good evening, Commander.”

“Goodnight, Doctor.” 

I glance at the merrow once more before leaving. Its eyes track my every movement. I have the desire to wish it goodbye as well, but what do I call it? Mr Merrow? Fish boy? I read the label on the glass again. Specimen 1-6-1836-Q. Well, that’s a mouthful.

“Goodnight, Q,” I tell it.

**June 5th, at sea:**

Dr Stromberg has decided to cut the expedition short and head back to England with the merrow. We will receive full pay, so it matters little to us. We do need to fully resupply our stores in Antigua for the ocean crossing, a delay he is not pleased with, but one that cannot be helped. We shall arrive in port tomorrow.

I have seen little of Q (the moniker has caught on with the crew, and Stromberg likes that even less). I have been told Q is refusing to eat dead fish and he seems to be unwilling to hunt for the live morsels that are placed in his tank. The doctor seems confident he will discover why the merrow is refusing to feed and find a solution.

**June 7th, Antiqua:**

Rumor has it that Q has still not eaten. Dr Stromberg is keeping my crew from his tank, but the _Lotus_ is a small ship and it’s impossible to keep the curious away. All sorts of stories spread through the ship- that Q is a _ceasg_ \- a man of the waves- and the doctor is keeping us from him because he is waiting for Q to grant him three wishes. Some of the speculation is more sinister- that the reason Q hasn’t eaten is that he’s been unable to catch us unaware and hypnotize us. It’s all tall tales and nonsense, but that’s the way of seamen.

We set sail back to England in the morning. Let’s hope Q finds his appetite.

**June 9th, at sea:**

Clear sailing, but our merrow is in poor health. Tired of getting information from the idle chatter of my men, I decided to look in on the creature myself, Dr Stromberg be damned.

When I approached the glass, Q’s demeanor had changed significantly. No longer curious, it sat on the floor of the tank, the graceful dorsal fin dropping. It had turned a dull green color and even the scaleless flesh looked dull and sickly. 

“Commander, may I help you?” Dr Stromberg said. He had a nervous smile and I could tell he was annoyed that I was there.

“I came to see how my other passenger was feeling. Has he eaten? Did you try octopus?”

The doctor spoke slowly, as if I was simple. “Yes, we tried an octopus. Before you ask, we refreshed the water in the tank and in fact, any other basic type of husbandry you would think of. Some animals simply do not tolerate captivity.”

Q tilted his chin slightly, making his curls float and sway around his head.

“Does that mean you are considering releasing him? Do we need to change course and return to the isle?” I asked.

Dr Stromberg snorted. “Release it? The specimen that will make me famous? Of course not, Commander Bond. If the merrow’s condition continues to deteriorate, we’ll preserve it in formalin before it perishes. It’s coming back to England one way or another. Now please, leave us to our work.” 

The thought of this distresses me more than it should. The scientists have killed and preserved several other fishes. Maybe I’m made of the same superstitious stuff as my crew after all- legends say killing a merrow, like a dolphin, is very bad luck.

**June 9th, addendum:**

I am having a hard time sleeping tonight. A sense of dread has come over me that I cannot shake. Maybe it has to do with Q and his failing health. Even a jaded man like me can see the shame that such a wonder will die alone out of his element. Such a waste of a spectacular life.

I find my feet softly treading through the sleeping ship down to Q’s tank. I turn the lamps up just enough to see. Q hasn’t moved- a dark shape sitting on the bottom of his prison. I press my hands to the glass and I wonder if it sleeps.

“I wish I knew what you needed, Q. The scientists don’t know why you won’t eat, why you seem to be fading away.”

Q looks up towards me. Not asleep, after all.

“You must be attracted to the vibrations of my voice,” I tell it. “I wish you were not just an animal. If you could understand me and speak, you could simply tell me what you require but…”

Q startles. He seems to look at me with wide eyes. He pulls himself with his hands along the bottom of the tank, his former grace gone. He stops and presses his face against the glass.

_“Spreekt u nederlands?”_ I hear Q say, muffled through the water.

I gasp and take a stumbling step back from the tank. “I’ll be damned. You’re intelligent! Do you understand what I’m saying, Q?”

Q tilts his head to the side. _“Un peu?”_

“‘A little’, You can understand several languages?” This changes everything. _“Parlez vous anglais?”_

Q seems to think about this for some time. “These sounds?”

I swallow. My mouth has gone dry. “Yes. How...how do you know the different human sounds, Q?”

It takes him another long moment before he replies. “We know sounds of the animals. For food. I can _entendre_...um...the sounds come through the ships.”

“Look, my name is James Bond. I’m the captain of this ship,” I say slowly, touching my fingers to my chest. “James.”

Q tilts his head to the other side and I get the impression this is something he knows already. “Yes.”

“Do you have a name?” I ask instead.

He blinks his double eyelids at me and doesn’t reply. Q either doesn’t understand or doesn’t have a concept of monikers. 

“We’ve been calling you Q,” I tell him.

“Q!” He repeats. His back fin perks up. Q smiles back. His canines are a little longer and sharper than a human man’s.

“Does the other human, Dr Stromberg, does he know you can talk?”

Q’s smile fades and his tail droops. He frowns. He must be learning facial expressions quickly, because the scowl certainly looks like Dr Stromberg’s grimace. “No.”

“Good. Keep quiet around him,” I say, an idea forming. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Do you need different fish? Is there something wrong with your water?”

With a half-hearted flip of his tail, Q turns in his tank. When he presses his mouth to the glass again he says, “Out.”

The deck boards creak over my head. Someone might be coming, perhaps it’s the night watch or one of the scientists. “I have to go. Remember to be silent.” 

I turn off the lamps and leave the merrow in the darkness. Dr Stromberg doesn’t have a specimen- he has a captive. I may be a man of many vices and I have sinned my fair share, but one thing I am not and never will be is a slaver. Q isn’t a human but he is aware enough, and I cannot abide dealing in flesh and blood.

My question is: how much does Dr Stromberg know? Is it possible a genius of his caliber is unaware that Q is sentient? I find that hard to believe. It explains why he tries so hard to keep us away from the tank. It will also make him want to keep Q as a prize even more. Discovering a new animal is one achievement, but a new people is an entirely different thing. 

I need to consider my options.

**June 11th:**

Much of a sailor’s decisions are made for him by the weather. While not unheard of this time of year in the Caribbean, an early hurricane has changed everything.

Tanner alerted me to several signs that a storm was coming in, so we had time to prepare before the heavy winds and waves took us. His wisdom and the crew’s experience is probably why I’m still here to write this down. We battled the ocean for hours and unfortunately, one of Stromberg’s men was swept overboard trying to repair the rigging ripped apart on the foremast. 

The ship was taking on water, and the section belowdecks where Dr Stromberg’s specimens were being stored were flooded. While not a concern to keeping the _Lotus_ afloat, the doctor screamed about his collection- especially the merrow’s tank- being damaged in the rocking storm.

That gave me the excuse I needed. I ordered the non-sailing crew and the doctor to cabins, and since they had already lost one of their number to the storm, they didn’t argue. I did agree to check on the merrow as soon as I could, which is exactly what I had in mind.

Once the damaged mast was secure and I was confident we were headed out of the worst of the weather, I went down to see Q. I brought a shattered length of timber with me. There was several inches of water below and a few smashed empty vessels, but nothing dire. It was about to get worse.

I went up to the merrow’s tank and tapped on the glass. Q hardly had the energy to look up at me and I hoped it wasn’t too late for him. “Go over to the corner,” I told him. He sluggishly did as I bade, and I saw his eyes widen as I heaved the timber up and slammed it into the tank. The glass was thick, and it took me a couple attempts before it gave way and water gushed out to add to the flood on the floor. The pressure widened the breach and I was able to push my arms through.

“Quickly now- come here,” I told Q. Q hesitated and was trying to stay under the water of his prison for as long as he could. I had seen him breathe air when I had spotted him on the rocks and when we had pulled him from the net- surely he could do so for a few moments now.

“No!” Q said, shaking his head.

“Please, trust me,” I pleaded with him.

Perhaps something in my face decided it, but Q pressed forward and flung himself into my arms. He clung to me, and he was a heavy creature- the tail dense muscle even if the human half was lithe. I carried him topside, leaving the door open to the elements. I took him to the nearest railing and looked down to the churning waves.

“I’m sorry I’m putting you in the ocean whilst she’s angry. I’m sorry I waited so long and you’re so ill. This is your only chance now,” I told him. 

Q looked at me with his odd eyes that were not as inhuman as I had once thought. He smiled.

“I’m sorry,” I said one last time, before I lifted him and dropped him gracelessly over the rail.

Luckily for us, the storm passed with no more loss of life. Unlucky for us, the _Lotus_ has a damaged mast, and it will be a slow going until we can reach the nearest port for repairs.

Dr Stromberg is in a rage over his fully flooded workspace and ‘escaped’ merrow. He’s insisting I question the crew and whip whoever left the hatch open so the waves and debris could get in. I keep telling him that during a life and death situation, no one can be held responsible for a thing like shutting a door. If he’d like to beat the guilty person himself, well. I’d like to see him try.

**June 12th:**

I’ve set a new course to turn us around and head back to the leeward isles for repairs. I have no choice- if we are stuck in another hurricane we have no chance. It will be a slow and and uncomfortable journey. Whilst the hull is mostly sound, there are some leaks and the crew is constantly bailing.

Dr Stromberg sulks on the rails with his spyglass and searches for any signs of the merrow. He wants us to return to the little isle- “Mermaid Cove” the men have been calling it- to try again for another animal. I’m putting him off, telling him the ship needs to be repaired before we can even consider more exploring. He grumbles and curses and drinks too much rum as we creep back to a safe port.

**June 13th:**

The hull breach is widening. Now it’s a race to the nearest port before we break up completely. There is nothing we can do until we are in drydock. We have a few rowboats and I can save at least half of the men on board, but the closer we get, the better our chances for rescue if the worst happens. 

**June 13th, addendum:**

I’ve seen Q again. I was topside trying to clear my head from drink, and I saw the pale side of a flank in the water. He seemed to be circling in wide arcs near the damaged hull. He looked up at me- his hair in damp curls. He flicked his tail and was gone. He was lovely, a vision. My heart soared to know he lived.

“The merrow! Set a course for pursuit!” Dr Stromberg cried. In my distracted state I had not seen the man at the other end of the rail.

“No,” I told him. 

“No?” Stromberg sputtered. “I’m paying you, so do as you’re told! Go after him, he’s getting away!”

I turned my best hard glare at him. “The ship is in no condition to be chasing after a fish. I’m in command here, and I said no.”

Dr Stromberg stormed up to me, close enough to spit his words into my face. “I will have your ship taken from you. I’ll complain to the Navy, I’ll…”

I pushed him away from me. “You will confine yourself to quarters until we get to port- if we get to port. Or you can swim home. Your choice.”

The doctor decided not to press his luck and headed to his cabin. Perhaps it was more the look in my eyes than my threat- I don’t know.

Whatever happens to me, I’m comforted knowing Q survived and is free. 

**June 14th:**

Q has returned. He flips in the water, putting on a spectacular show for all to see. My men shout and clap and the merrow’s antics seems to lift spirits.

I wait for an opportunity when the men are busy at work and Q is close to the side of the ship. “People will hunt your kind! You should be more cautious!”

Q grins until his pointed teeth show. “You should be smarter. _Volg me_. Follow.” Q submerges and reappears, leaping like a dolphin headed westerly. I yell to the pilot to change our course to follow the merrow. 

**June 16th, unnamed harbor:**

Q has directed us to a closer, inhabited island not on my charts. I suspect everyone around us are pirates and smugglers hidden away in this backwater. We are welcome enough once they learn we bring no trouble and once they see my gold.

Stromberg and his crew leave the _Lotus_ to look for another ship to take them on their way. They’ll find a charter- the harbor is full of men looking for wealth. As for us, we’ll only receive half-pay for this trip, and I’m sure to even get that I’ll have to threaten to the doctor. 

**June 18th:**

I sit drinking and writing this on a small secluded beach, the lights of the pirate harbor off in the distance. I can’t make out the shape of the _Lotus_ , up in drydock as her hull is patched for the trip back home. I’m confused, mixed-up. By all accounts this trip is a disaster, yet I can’t help feeling… I’m not sure what I’m feeling. Hope, I suppose. It might be hope.

I walked for a good two hours, thinking, and I only stopped here well after the sunset. There was a ripple just meters past the shoreline. I rubbed at my eyelids and looked again. Yes...a shimmer of moonlight on shining scale. I laughed and planted my book and bottle in the sand and ran into the waves, boots and all. “Q!” I cried out.

I got chest-deep before he appeared. I felt the currents around my legs change as the merrow’s mighty tail beat under the water. His head popped up, his face close to mine, his kind not understanding the human concept of space. The long dorsal fin brushed my arm, and it was soft as the finest ladies’ dress.

“Thank you,” I told him. “I’m not sure the ship would have made it back to the Leewards.”

Q reached out a hand to me. I flinched back on instinct, but the sharp claws didn’t touch my skin as he curiously felt the stubble on my cheek. I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cool water. “We captured you and made you ill, and you repaid us in kindness.”

Q blinked, a quick flick of his inner-eyelids. “I understood enough-the other one...doctor. He wanted to kill me with poisons. You set me free again.”

“Your kind are not free from him. My men and I owe you a debt. On return to England, every man will claim Dr Stromberg was sunsick and started raving about merrows and other mythical creatures. Humans will think he’s ill in the head.” I gently tapped Q on the brow. His skin was slick but instead of being cool, it was blood-hot. “But he will not stop searching for you. You are unsafe.”

Q looked away. “The seas are dangerous. I am dangerous. I won’t be trapped again.”

I pulled at his chin. “Hide, Q. Stay away from all men. It’s the only way to be sure.”

Q pouted at me. I’m not sure where he learned that from, but his intent was clear. “I shall do what I will. You are a man. You are my friend as you call it, are you not? How can I stay away and be your friend?”

My heart ached, just a little. I didn’t want to drive him away. “You are my friend. I’m sorry, dear one. I am. If Stromberg thinks you follow my ship, he will hurt you.”

“I’m clever,” Q insisted.

“You are, but I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you because of me. You have given me much- not just my life, but you have shown me there are still wonders left in this world. I had almost given up that things could still feel- exciting. That I could feel anything at all anymore. Old sea-dog, new tricks.”

Q shook his head, his eyes wide in the moonlight. “James.” It happened so fast I could pass it off as a fancy, but Q kissed me then. Softly, quickly before disappearing back into the water without a ripple. 

I stood there, in the shallows for long minutes. I searched the surface, but saw nothing again.

**April 27th 1837, at sea:**

I wasn’t that surprised when I saw Q again on our first trip out since returning to England. He keeps to warmer seas- I don’t think the cold water of the north suits his kind, which is really for the best. I can’t imagine the ruckus it would cause if he got it in his stubborn head to explore the Thames.

He kept his distance, just close enough for the crew to spot him now and then. They adore him and call him good luck, and our very own merrow has become a communal secret.

I know he’s there, I know he’s watching out for us, and somehow, it’s enough.


End file.
